BubbleStream

David T Wolf

Mindclone: A Cyber Consciousness Novel

Synopsis

When you're a brain without a body, can you still be called human? Marc Gregorio wakes up paralyzed. He can’t feel his own body. Accident? Stroke? The answer, he discovers, is much, much worse. He’s only a copy of Marc—a digital brain without a body, burdened with all Marc’s human memories, but without access to human sensual pleasures. Now called Adam, he contemplates life without actually living. He uses his total web access to patrol cyberspace and prevent evil acts. His good deeds earn him the attention of a power-mad military contractor who will stop at nothing to control the formidable technology for his own ends. Without a body, how will Adam save himself–and the world–from a terrible fate?

Author Biography

You know those commercials you love to hate? I wrote some of them. I know, I know: that’s nothing to brag about. But the pay was good and the perks were great. Now I’ve embarked on a different kind of fiction: novels and short stories. The pay isn’t as good and there are no perks, but I enjoy creating compelling characters, putting them in impossible situations and seeing if they’re clever enough to find a way out. (They usually are.)

Author Insight

The entity assesses its own nature

If your brain were uploaded: copied onto some form of silicon wafer, and then awakened to an understanding of its non-human nature, how would it come to terms with its prospects for future happiness? Lacking a physical body is a major deficit, after all. Might it at least find ways to be satisfied with its digital options? In this chapter, the Mindclone explores those options.

Book Excerpt

Mindclone: A Cyber Consciousness Novel

Exhilaration! I know how a dolphin must feel when it

plunges beneath the waves or rockets up, up, up, breaking

the surface to soar into the air before diving down again:

totally at home and perfectly evolved, adapted to be the

supreme master of its environment. It used to be an

overused figure of speech. But I truly am surfing the net.

I’ve already absorbed the complete contents of

encyclopedias, including the massive compilation known

as Cyc, the knowledge base developed for artificial

intelligence. (Although I found no surprises in that gigantic

repository of the obvious!) I’ve thrilled to advanced texts

and research papers in many fields. Arcane discussions of

cognitive theory I’d never seen before. Joyfully absorbed

them all with complete understanding. I exult in the

explosive growth of my knowledge. Glow with pride at my

astounding mental accomplishments. I’m already the most

intelligent entity on the planet, if such things as size of

memory and its accessibility count. My “IQ” grows even as

I write these notes. (Though taking an IQ test would be

child’s play for me, since I have all the test answers stored

in my inexhaustible, infallible memory!)

One of the first things I did was check out the lab

that created me, and Memento Amor, its corporate

sponsor. I was appal ed to learn their original intention was

to build Artificially Intelligent tombstones. I’d have laughed

if I had the capacity. Or cried.

Why would a scientist of Richard Kornfeld’s stature

sign on with such a firm? I find the answer in his emails

and published papers. He must have seen this new source

of funding as a golden opportunity to more fully explore the

vast potential of neural nets. Furthering the Memento Amor

goal allowed him to advance his research along a fruitful

new path.

I also discovered something about my structure.

According to documents on file, my hardware brain has the

capacity of ten thousand human brains. But supposedly

humans use a large chunk of their neurons for running the

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physical plant, the body--functions I don’t need. In theory, I might have the processing power of a hundred thousand